


the ordinary marvels of form and gravity

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Episode Tag, F/F, First Kiss, awkward teenage girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23266537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: "Let me buy you lunch before I go," she says to Trace, counting up her meager credits and deciding she can part with a few for a friend.
Relationships: Trace Martez/Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72





	the ordinary marvels of form and gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Coda for "Gone with a Trace." Title from "Tiara" by Mark Doty.

After Rafa leaves, they head back to the shop and work on Ahsoka's speeder bike in companionable silence. Ahsoka's glad, because she doesn't know what she can, or even should, say. Trace's choices are her own, even if Ahsoka doesn't agree with them. She understands how hard it is to break away from the only family you've ever known. Trace isn't there yet, and might not ever be, if nothing worse ever happens.

Ahsoka knows something worse can always happen. But that's not her problem. Life is hard down here, but life is hard everywhere.

They work late, stopping only when the lack of a sparker means they can't do anymore, and then share a small but filling dinner of steamed pork buns that Trace heats up on an ancient cooktop in the back of the shop. They eat standing up over the sink. 

"Tomorrow, we can hit up the junk shop, see if we can find a sparker for you," Trace says when they're done eating. In the jumbled area adjacent to the cooktop and cooling unit, there's a refresher and a pair of bunks hidden away in the wall. "You can sleep in the bottom bunk—it was mine before Rafa left to run the laundromat."

"Thanks," Ahsoka says. "What do I—"

"It's free," Trace says with studied casualness as she turns away to wash the dirty dishes. 

Ahsoka picks up the damp towel next to the sink and dries them. "Thanks," she repeats inadequately. She wants to ask what's changed, but she did save Trace's life, and even though she didn't do it for a reward, it's nice to get one. Especially when she needs the promise of a safe night's sleep more than any effusive show of gratitude. People don't like being reminded to be grateful, she's learned, and they don't like feeling indebted.

Nights in the undercity are never quiet, but the hum of traffic fades to white noise as she lies in the snug bunk and gives herself over to the Force, and then sleep.

*

In the morning, there's no brightness this far down, just a lightening of the gray and a lessened sense of danger.

The junk shop isn't far and they spend a leisurely morning sifting through parts looking for one that'll fit Ahsoka's bike. If she doesn't think too hard, she can imagine she's with Anakin, planning for another overhaul of the Twilight. She knows better than to let herself drift too far into that fantasy; she made her choice and she'll see it through. Master Kenobi would remind her that doubt has no place in the mind of a Jedi, once a decision has been made, and she does her best to live up to his example.

Ahsoka lets out a cry of triumph and holds up a sparker that came from a bike just like hers and Trace gives her a bright grin in response. 

"I don't have any credits," Ahsoka tells the Tholothian who runs the shop, "but I do have these." She holds up some random pieces of machinery she'd had in her utility belt when she'd left the Temple—a tiny emitter matrix, a stabilizer ring she'd planned to use on her shoto, and two extra diatium power cells.

"Hmm," the Tholothian says. "The power cells are worth something, I suppose."

Ahsoka bites back the argument that springs to her lips, and then blinks when Trace makes the argument for her. "They're worth twice what the sparker is, Lu'dall."

Lu'dall scowls but grabs the collection of parts from Ahsoka's hand and then waves them out of the shop.

"That was lucky," Trace says. 

Ahsoka opens her mouth to say that it wasn't luck, it was the Force, but stops herself in time. "Yeah. Glad I remembered I had them."

"You didn't offer them to me," Trace points out.

"You wanted credits, not barter."

Trace hums but doesn't disagree. 

The galaxy runs on credits. Ahsoka knows that. But she can't help wishing more people would help just because it's the right thing to do. Trace would probably call her a spoiled surface-dweller if she said that though, so it's one more thing she keeps behind her teeth. 

This is her life now. She supposes she should get used to it.

*

Her bike is fixed by lunchtime, and she's ready to leave, but for the nagging feeling of something left unfinished. 

"Let me buy you lunch before I go," she says to Trace, counting up her meager credits and deciding she can part with a few for a friend. Or a friendly acquaintance. She doesn't have many of either anymore.

"Noodles are pretty cheap at the diner on level 1312," Trace says with a hint of a smile.

"Sounds great."

Two bowls of vegetable noodles are just within Ahsoka's price range, though she really should eat something with meat in it at some point.

At the counter, they're elbow-to-elbow with people slurping noodles, so Ahsoka doesn't try to talk. The noodles are starchy and overcooked, but filling enough for now. She misses the variety of free food in the Temple refectory, the steaming trays of nuna bird stew, the sizzle of nerf steaks on a grill, the pork ribs slathered in spicy sauce. She finishes the mushy vegetables at the bottom of her bowl with a sigh, but smiles when she catches Trace's gaze. 

"The food might be mediocre," she says, "but the company's good."

Trace's grin widens. "Thanks, I think." 

Ahsoka jostles her shoulder with a laugh, and then Trace is kissing her. Ahsoka freezes, trying to figure out what she thinks, what she _feels_ , and Trace pulls back.

"I know you're leaving," she says. "It doesn't have to be a thing."

"I—I don't know," Ahsoka says. "I'm not very experienced with," she waves a hand and her lekku twitch uncertainly, "kissing." She tries not to think about Barriss or Lux. "I don't have very good luck with it."

"Me neither," Trace mutters wryly, and Ahsoka can't help the little nervous laugh that escapes. Trace straightens up from her lean and says, "If you're finished, we should go."

"Yeah," Ahsoka says, standing and wiping her palms on her thighs. "Okay."

The walk back to the shop is silent and awkward, and seems to take forever. Ahsoka tries to figure out if she can make it better. If she should even try. If she's just going to ruin every relationship she ever has in one way or another.

She shakes her head. Not a productive line of thought.

"I guess that's it then," Trace says once Ahsoka has her bike at the edge of the maintenance platform. She tucks her hands in her pockets and won't meet Ahsoka's gaze.

"Yeah," Ahsoka says. "Trace, I'm sorry—"

Trace shakes her head. "Don't."

An ache wells up in Ahsoka's chest, and she searches Trace's expression for a long moment. Actions mean more than words. Anakin taught her that. She takes a deep breath and something like calm settles over her.

She leans in and presses her mouth to Trace's. Trace's lips are full and warm, and her breath tastes of noodles when she exhales into Ahsoka's mouth. The kiss is soft, wistful, and over almost as soon as it began. 

Ahsoka tilts her head towards the sky. "I've gotta—"

"Yeah," Trace says, "I get it."

"If you ever make it out of here," Ahsoka starts.

Trace gives her a genuine smile. "I'll look you up."

Ahsoka nods. "Good. That's good. I'd like that."

She swings herself onto her bike and lets the roar of the engine vibrate through her. She heads up, towards the surface, towards the nearest spaceport, towards the far expanse of the galaxy and far away from here. She doesn't look back.


End file.
